


keep you guessing

by longituddeonda



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Betrayal, Emotions, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longituddeonda/pseuds/longituddeonda
Summary: The first time you slept with Javier Peña, you had initiated the whole thing. You had heard he’d sleep with just about anyone who had tits and an ass. It was an easy in to the embassy.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	keep you guessing

The first time you slept with Javier Peña, you had initiated the whole thing. You had heard he’d sleep with just about anyone who had tits and an ass. It was an easy in to the embassy.

You were sitting in a booth, eyes trained on the man who was drinking up at the bar. He had approached a few women that night to no avail and looked like he had given up. It was the perfect moment to swoop down and grab him.

It was only a couple months ago that you heard of him. You were sleeping with one of your own informants, a lovely young woman who worked at one of the brothels Javier would frequent. Same one some guys close to Escobar hung out at. She had mentioned a few years back he had offered her a large sum of money in exchange for some schedules but what was arranged to be a quick and modest meeting had ended at his apartment. She only remembered the guy because it was the best dick she had ever experienced.

It had taken a few weeks to get down his schedule, and while he was supposed to have appeared a few days before, this was the third night you’d shown up at the bar due to some additional unforeseen trysts with various women. Tonight, however, he was searching for anyone. Preferably someone who wouldn’t need to be paid.

And you didn’t want money.

Your informant was right, you realized as you sunk onto him in his apartment (he should have known better than to show any woman he fucked where he lived), Javier Peña did have the best dick in Bogotá. Probably the whole fucking country if you were being honest.

You orgasmed more than you’d ever experienced in a single night in a number of positions, none of which gave you a clear view of his face. That didn’t really matter. Getting into his bed was step one in the plan, good sex was just a welcome benefit.

The conversation you’d had back in the bar surprised you. Peña was good at talking, incredibly charming when he wanted to, and you found yourself thinking you might be into the guy if you weren’t there to get some information. He had insights you weren’t expecting on politics, a criticism with the way some things were done that was unique for a man whose job depended on doing things by the book. Or so you thought.

When he slipped out of you for the last time, you were spent, falling next to him in bed on soft sheets. Your body leaned into him, and despite the number of times you had come, you wanted more.

“Can I meet you again? Tomorrow night?” you whispered.

His hand was trailing circles on your back and you moaned when his palm slipped down to feel your ass and then, brushing against your folds, continued down to your inner thigh.

“I wish, got to go up near Medellín for a few days,” he said. And you thought that was it, a simple acknowledgment this was a one-time thing. But he continued, whispering under his breath as if he didn’t mean to even say it out loud, “Fuckin, Stechner’s got me on show-and-tell in the jungle.”

Got him.

When you left a few minutes later it was with a certain forlornness. There was no reason for a second meeting with Javier, no chance at getting a night like this again, the information you needed was obtained in a single evening. The location of one Bill Stechner. Which meant you, along with the rest of your group, had a date.

You couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for playing Javier until you were hiding behind some bushes, gun aimed at some of the Americans, watching the fighting happen from afar, and some motion in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A quick glance revealed Javier, a few meters away, pressed up against the trunk of a tree. Your subtle startle upon seeing him exposed your location, and he looked down, right at you. Something crossed his face and your stomach sank with regret. No matter how much you hated who he worked for, a small piece of you had fallen for him the night before.

But then there’s a bullet rushing by your head and you hadn’t even heard the blast. You dropped down onto the jungle floor, eyes still trained on Peña. In his hand was a smoking gun. The bastard had tried to shoot you.

And from so close, he still missed.

By some miracle, or just dumb luck, someone called Javier back towards where the rest of the Americans were, and he left you, panting in the dirt, wondering why he didn’t take you out right then and there.

You found yourself at the same goddamn bar you met him at a week later, and you’re not sure if it makes you a masochist, but you don’t care, because for some reason you want to see Javier again.

It happened when you were up against the bar, your heels lengthening your legs and popping out your hips in the tiny dress you wore. You were leaning over, hoping to get the attention of the bartender, a difficult task given how busy it was, when someone pressed up against your backside. You could feel the slight bulge of whoever it was pushing into your ass. They leaned forward. You felt the hairs on your neck stand up and regretted coming unarmed. You knew you could raise your leg and stomp down on their foot if they tried anything, your stiletto would do enough damage to get you out of there, but the part of you that had been beating yourself up about the whole Javier thing thought maybe, for a night, you could let yourself be used.

The man’s chest was flush against your back when his lips graced the shell of your ear. “I don’t tolerate people who betray me.”

It was the same voice that growled obscenities and whispered affections to you, all while holding you in his arms, trusting you for a night.

“So why are you here?” you breathed out, not trusting your voice enough to engage your vocal cords without betraying your own emotions.

He rolled his hips into yours and snaked a hand up your stomach, palming your breast and it took all your self-control to not moan in front of everyone in the bar. You swallowed, waiting for him to say something.

“I could ask the same of you.”

You could feel his hot breath and the rough hairs of his mustache brushing against the delicate skin on your ear and the side of your head. You would be lying if you said you weren’t turned on by it all. The underwear you wore was already dampening and if you didn’t know Javier, didn’t know the things he could do in bed and in the field, there would be blood rushing to your cheeks, warm and embarrassed.

It didn’t take more than you pushing your hips back into him for his grip to tighten. Two fingers pinched your nipple through the thin fabric and his other arm reached down to hold you. His hand dug right into the skin, grasping tight at your hipbone. It would leave a bruise the next morning but you didn’t care. You came here for one thing, and you were getting it. It didn’t matter how much it might hurt, how much control you’d be giving up to let it happen. You, despite knowing he was the enemy, wanted so much from Javier.

You wanted his body. You wanted into his arms. You wanted his forgiveness.

The two of you ended up at your place that night. He had you spread out on your own bed, writhing under his fingertips, forgetting the moments that had brought you there.

“Javi, fuck,  _ Javi, _ keep—keep doing—”

“Shut up,” he said, removing his fingers entirely and flipping you onto your stomach. A hand came down on your head, crushing your face into the mattress as he pulled up your hips and plunged into you.

You were lucky he had left you wet enough, because this was an intrusion you weren’t ready for, not yet. However, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. He started slamming into you from behind until his dick made you believe you deserved the tears that had begun falling freely on the mattress.

_ ‘Javi, I’m sorry’ _ was the thought which crossed your mind that got you to snap out of it. 

The harsh words Javier grunted out between moans were uncalled for, he’d done enough, you knew. He’d come in you at least once, maybe twice. And you may have wronged him, but  _ he tried to shoot you _ . And you were lying there, letting yourself be fucked, feeling sorry for yourself, when he was just as guilty in fucking over this relationship you had so desperately wanted not to lose.

You roll your head to the side and throw out your arm, pushing him away, causing him to stall for a second. You were able to free the arm he had pinned to your back. It was enough to pull off and face Javier for what might have been the first time that night.

“Fuck. You. Javier.” You spat out each word slowly, pushing out each syllable of his name with as much force as you can muster, smiling at his shocked face.

You pushed him down on his back, one arm pinning him by his hips while you used the other to line yourself up, sinking down slowly onto his cock. You maintained eye contact the entire time, making sure he knew exactly what he was doing to you, and so you could see the arousal and fear and pleasure crossing his features. When you could tell he was about to start moving again, take control back and slam up into you, you rock your hips up and back down, fast enough to keep Javier from moving, slow enough you could tell the whole experience was torture.

From your first encounter, you knew he hated seeing faces, hated going slow. He fucked for release and to forget. For the rest of the night, you took that away from him, and to your surprise, he let you.

By the time you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

It wasn’t until five days later, when a knock on your door startled you from your book, that you saw him again. It was late, no one you knew would show up unless it was important. You got up off the couch and walked over, flinging open the door. It was too late for you to be worried about all the dangers that could come with the combination of your occupation, the hour, and the reckless action. It didn’t matter when Javier was standing in front of you, swaying a bit despite his hand on the doorframe.

“Can I come in?” he slurred, and you glanced up at his eyes, realizing how drunk he was. There were also tears forming in the edges, and wet tracks glistened in the soft light.

“Why?” you ask. You weren’t expecting to see him again. No matter how much you wanted to.

“Cause,” he reached up to touch your collarbone, trailing down towards your breast, covered by little more than a thin t-shirt. You swatted his hand away.

“You’re not gonna leave, are you?” you said, already having made up your mind. You stepped aside, letting him enter your small apartment.

Except he didn’t walk past you. He grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you with a fervor you had not experienced in a man.

Javier wasn’t the type to shed tears. Especially in front of other people. Whatever had caused this was obviously damaging, further than it should, and you wanted to find it and erase it. Erase whatever was creating so much pain. Didn’t he have someone better to come to? There had to be someone in his life he could feel safe running to? Right? Not some communist fighter who had snuck into his bed. Were you really the person for him?

You had already melted into him, already given up your dignity before, and you knew whatever he needed from you, you were willing to give it. You were too far gone already.

You didn’t make it past the living room, falling together on the couch. Your thin sleep-clothes were off before you knew it, and you fumbled with his belt as he removed his shirt.

“I hate you, you know?” he groaned, and you moaned as his hands fell back onto you.

You were pretty sure he thought he was mad, but the way he caressed your thigh and held your waist while staring at your face as he entered you told a different story. You let him take what he needed, your arms wrapped around his back, and tried to ignore the way he stopped looking at you halfway through.

When he finished, you expected him to pull out and leave. Instead, he slipped out and slunk down, his head resting on your chest. You lie there, holding him, your chest still heaving after everything, waiting until he was ready to talk.

“I hate that I should hate you, but I don’t,” he mumbled into your bare skin.

“You’re not making sense.”

“That s’okay... it doesn’t make any sense in my head”

“Javier, what’s wrong?” you asked. The question might not have been the right one, as he let out a sound that was close to a sob, even though he might never admit it.

“I fucked up today.”

“Yeah?”

“Followed the wrong lead. Some of my men died.”

You closed your eyes and tightened your hold around him. You’d done the same before. The guilt never goes away, just dulls with time.

“It’s my fault they’re gone,” he said.

You nodded.

“And then I can’t get you out of my damn head,” he continued. “I should hate you. But I mostly hate myself. Because I can’t fucking forget you.”

“I haven’t been able to forget you either,” you whispered.

He only wrapped an arm around your waist in response. After lying together for a while, he yawned.

“Javi, you should get some sleep.”

“Don’t wanna leave.”

You unwrapped his arms from you, and slipped out from underneath him, standing beside his reclined figure.

“You don’t have to,” you said, reaching out an arm and tugging him up.

You pulled him into an embrace, inhaling whatever leftover scent remains from his soap on the bare skin of his shoulder.

You whispered against him, “You can stay.”


End file.
